


Masquerade

by Solthebookaddict



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Eventual Romance, F/M, Romance, Superheroes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-06 07:00:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14051508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solthebookaddict/pseuds/Solthebookaddict
Summary: The most elusive mutant mercenary in the world with the ability to transform into anyone and anything, high on SHIELD's hit list and most wanted, has been caught. Now in custody, she can do nothing but wait and find an escape route. And she would like nothing more than to see the entire world burn with her.





	1. Apprehension and Lost Disguises

Masque was cold.  
It was not a good feeling. She was cold and was having a hard time seeing straight. Everything kept on blurring around her.  
There was a pounding in her head. They said it was a side effect, as was the fuzziness in her head, her lack of focus, her fatigue, her inability to move much, and the numbing of her senses.  
There was a silver metal table in front of her matching silver metal chair in the matching silver metal room. The only source of light was a couple of fluorescent lights on the ceiling that left a few shadowy spots in the room which seemed odd given the reflective nature of the material the room consisted of. The light bounced off of the walls and covered most of the room, casting it in a sallow green yet metallic color that reminded her of a run down hospital. It almost smelled like one too.  
The smell of antiseptic and an underlying hint of blood and desperation reeked and overwhelmed her senses.  
It probably wasn't the best environment for her.  
“We only want to help,” came a female voice. It was kind and sweet sounding, but Masque knew it was all fake. She of all people could recognize a facade. The voice didn’t want to help her, it wanted to tear her down and crush her from the inside out, worming it’s way into her ear and slowly tearing her apart.  
“You only need to talk to me,” she said again, Masque stayed silent, her face unmoving. She wouldn’t budge or betray her own emotion. She wouldn’t give them what they wanted. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing her shatter into a million pieces, though she was inches from that point. Her body and mind were slowly giving way and she couldn’t last much longer in the room. It felt like everything was closing in around her. It felt like she couldn't breathe.  
“We’ve been patient. But that can change easily, we can be very cruel,” the voice kept saying. Though it was still soft and lilting which made the threat that she said seem odd and out of place.  
Though Masque didn’t doubt that things could go south very quickly if she didn’t cooperate. She would probably lose half of her fingers and all of her bones would break. Maybe they would induce some form of mental torture, that wouldn’t surprise her. She had already prepared herself to face the worst and she was ready to go through that.  
She had already been to hell and back, what was one more trip?  
“Let’s start over,” the voice said simply, her patience back again, though there was still a twinge of irritation that could be heard.  
How long had she been here, wherever she was? She had lost count of how long she had laid on the cold metal floor of her cell. She hadn’t seen a window since she had been brought here so she was unable to gauge the passage of time by the light. It felt like decades, but it definitely wasn’t that long. More than a month but less than a year, she had no idea how long. She was surprised their patience had lasted as long as it had. She was also surprised she wasn’t dead in a river or a street, but life was full of surprises. Not all of them were very pleasant however.  
“What is your name?” the voice asked. Masque was only aware of the straitjacket that constrained her arms keeping them wrapped against her body. The cuffs that restrained her legs to her chair, the cold metal freezing her skin, turning her to ice. The collar around her neck that prevented her from breathing properly, only allowing small shallow breaths and that held some sort of technology she didn’t understand that suppressed her powers.  
Everything preventing her from escaping. Her eyes flitted around the room for the umpteenth time, trying to find any way of escape. A broken tile, a faulty light, a slightly loose screw.  
Nothing.  
“I’m going to repeat myself. What is your name?” a hint of irritation beginning to creep back into the woman’s voice, making it more evident how long they had been going on like this. The woman may as well be talking to a brick wall, or a sack of flour. Both of which would be more responsive than Masque.  
Masque opened her mouth slowly to speak, but then thought better of it and closed her mouth once more, not responding, her lips sealed once more.  
“One more time. What is your name?”  
“Masque,” she responded softly to the woman, her voice cracking on the simple word. She hadn’t spoken once since she was apprehended, not wanting to accidentally give any sort of information away. Her voice sounded foreign and distant after a long time without use. It made her seem weak and small and utterly pathetic. She didn’t sound like a scary, faceless mercenary. She sounded like a scared little girl.  
She felt like a scared little girl.  
“What is your real name?”  
“I don’t have one,” she lied. She had a real name, but she wasn’t going to say anything about it. It was just another form of identification.  
Very few methods could be used to pin her down. DNA was useless, facial recognition was even more useless, but a name? That would be able to be used to find her easily. She hadn’t used her real name in a long time. She used aliases, fake identities, other people’s identities. Anything but her real one. It was like a ghost, hell bent on following her until she died and joined it in the afterlife.  
“Everyone has one. What is yours?” the voice asked, growing impatient. Masque looked up at the woman who was speaking. It was hard to see who was speaking. It was only the two of them in the room. There was no doubt many forces waiting outside in case she did decide to attack them. All she could see was a shadow across the small room.  
It was almost as though the fluorescent lighting didn’t touch her though it blinded Masque.  
“I don’t have one,” she repeated, her voice straining as though she had been screaming all day at a nightclub, right next to the DJ’s speakers. It rasped slightly as she tried to make her voice last, but she could only do so much before it snapped like a thin twig. She bent her head forward as she started coughing.  
“Yes you do,” the voice said forcefully, urging her to respond, not giving her an option, not taking no for an answer.  
“I don’t have one,” Masque replied softly, each word spoken as though it was it’s own sentence. Though her voice was low, it was just as forceful. It only broke once more on the last syllable of her statement. Just these few statements made her voice strain and crack.  
She just expected the voice to move on or to continue asking the question, but she didn’t. All Masque could feel was the blinding pain she now felt on the side of her face and the fact that she was now on the cold floor. The owner of the voice had slapped her in the face and the force had knocked the chair over to the side. The cold metal floor chilled her to the bone and she was still restrained to the hard chair. She was unable to get up on her own as she was still in the straitjacket. Her head was tilted to the side, towards the floor, her matted hair spilling all over the surface of the ground.  
Masque spit blood from her mouth as she felt herself being lifted up by the jacket, her legs now unrestrained. She assumed the woman questioning her released them in order to beat her up. Every inch of her body felt like dead weight that was dragging her down.  
She was struggling to comprehend what was happening, her vision blurry and her mind spinning.  
The woman pushed Masque against the wall, her body cracking in a sickening manner from the force of it. She knew it would be painful.  
“Tell me now. What is your name?”  
Masque kept her mouth shut knowing she would never allow herself to give away that information. She felt a cold object against her neck, digging into her skin and causing small tendrils of pain through her body. She bit her tongue to keep from letting any sound or whimper escape her lips.  
“Tell me before I slit your throat,” the voice said in a deadly calm voice that let Masque know that the voice was serious. She could feel something warm slowly drip down her neck and leave small red tracks on her skin.  
“Have it your way,” the voice said, slowly digging the blade in deeper, intending to make this as slow and painful as possible.  
“Natasha! What are you doing?!” another voice exclaimed with shock and what sounded like concern. Masque strained to see who spoke, but she couldn’t decipher his face. He was definitely male, his voice was deeper than the woman who had a knife to her throat. She was unsure whether or not his arrival was good for her. He may just be here to help Natasha kill her and was upset she had started without him.  
She just wanted to survive today. The male voice was familiar. She had definitely heard it before, she just didn’t know from where. She couldn’t think straight. With some food in her system and some rest, her mind would be clearer and maybe then she could pinpoint him, but until then, she was at a loss. And being at a loss wasn’t a good sign for her right now.  
“She was being uncooperative,” the woman, Natasha, said defensively, still holding the knife to Masque’s throat and even digging it in a little deeper, not willing to let her prey get away so easily.  
“That doesn’t mean you can just kill her. You don’t have permission to do that, they still need her breathing and alive,” the male voice said simply. To her it sounded like the man was trying to convince Natasha not to kill Masque. But she had the higher ground and the man had a hint of franticness in his voice that only a well trained leader and veteran could hide. This only gave her more information about him and knowledge was power. It could help her in the future even if she didn’t know how yet.  
Masque didn’t know who ‘they’ was, probably Natasha and the man’s boss and higher ups in whatever twisted organization she got caught up in. She was just thankful that she was going to survive, hopefully, though she was definitely bruised.  
She could see Natasha frown in annoyance as she dropped Masque, who crumpled to the floor like a delicate rag doll. Masque continued to cough, trying to catch her breath, the collar feeling as though it was suffocating her. The lack of proper food exhausted her and she was dizzy from her current condition.  
“I’ll escort her back,” the male voice said, hoisting Masque up by her shoulders. Despite the forceful nature of the action, he was gentle so she wasn’t jostled that much, preventing any more blunt force trauma to her already weakened body. She looked up at him and took in every single one of his features, memorizing everything she could see. He had blonde hair and blue eyes and looked like the picturesque all American guy. He was probably his high school’s quarterback and prom king. He was rather tall and built and she looked rather tiny compared to him. She was only 5’4 and after being held here for so long, she was very thin. He was 6’ 2 and probably twice her weight.  
He kept one hand on her shoulder as he gently lead her back down the halls of whatever base she was in. Instead of being brought back to her cell, she was brought to what looked like a bathroom. It was really nice looking too, probably expensive. Better than whatever she used during her stay.  
There was a thick fuzzy rug in the middle and what looked like state of the art facilities, the faucets gleaming as if they were brand new.  
A giant floor length mirror hung on the side next to a small table with different soaps and a change of clothes.  
“I’m going to let you get cleaned up. I’ll be back in half an hour,” the man said kindly, unlocking her straitjacket, but not her collar.  
She let the jacket fall to the tiled bathroom floor, her arms free for one of the first times in weeks. She rolled her shoulders and lightly stretched her arms, feeling bare without the straitjacket on, but she wasn’t complaining.  
She heard the lock of the door click as the man left the room, leaving her alone. She looked around the room again. Still no windows, but it was something other than cold metal.  
She shed her current clothes, the state they were in made it look as though she were wearing a ratty burlap potato sack. The beige linen was dirty and worn out in several spots.  
She didn’t hesitate to jump into the shower, the hot water hitting her skin for the first time since she had been here. She stood there for a few moments, just enjoying the feeling. She then began to scrub vigorously, watching the dirt come off of her body and down the drain.  
She hadn’t realized how disgusting she had been until she was clean once more. Finally she was starting to feel civilized again.  
After she stepped out, she grabbed the towel and dried off, savoring the feeling of being freshly scrubbed. She glanced at the clothes that were left for her. After standing there for a couple heartbeats she picked up the clothing.  
They were all close enough to her size. A pale grey jumpsuit, similar to what you would see in a prison yard. On top of the folded clothing she found the necessary undergarments. She found it a little concerning that this organization she was now captive to, knew all of her measurements including her bra size. That was just a little too close for comfort.  
She decided it was best not to question it at the moment and just be glad to wear something other than that potato sack of a shirt. She pulled the clothes and shoes on, beginning to feel more like a person.  
She looked in the mirror and frowned. Her face was extremely thin, she had lost a lot of weight and her clothes hung off of her in odd ways. Ways that they shouldn't. She had always been thin, but this was just malnourished and on a completely different scale.  
But it wasn’t anything a couple weeks of good meals couldn’t fix. She took in her appearance, glad that she didn’t look before she showered and got cleaned up. She probably looked wild then. At least now she looked clean, but far from normal.  
She was a mutant and part of her mutation had to do with her natural appearance. Instead of having one skin tone, her skin was a patchwork of varying shades of pale to tan to dark. Each color cut off abruptly then continued on with the next, making her skin look like one giant tapestry of different tones. The same with her eyes, they varied from blue to brown to even colors like purple and red. Her hair was similar, every strand was a different color, all natural colors however. Reds, browns, blondes, and every shade in between.  
She just looked like a confused tie dye patchwork doll. But no one ever saw her this way. Her mutant ability was the ability to shapeshift. She could change the structure and code of her DNA, imitating someone else’s or just a multitude of traits or even another species. Because she could imitate someone else’s DNA, if they also had superhuman abilities, she would gain those as well. She could even transform into animals. She had a fondness for birds so she could fly. Preferably if she could, she would fly away from here. But she couldn’t. So instead, she tucked away her filing cabinets of genetics and looked away from the mirror.  
Now, everyone knew what she looked like. And that was a very unnerving thought indeed.  
\----------  
"Are you sure that was a good idea?" Natasha asked after Masque had left.  
"I'm sure," Fury responded gravely. "Earning her trust is the best way to get the information we need."  
"I don't like it. She should be behind bars," she responded, pressing her lips together. "I'm surprised she didn't catch on."  
"Well she doesn't know you so she didn't know if you were out of character or not," Fury said simply, pleased that it had worked out so far. Know he just needed Rogers to report back. He was an all around trustworthy guy. If anyone had to be up for the task, it was him.  
\----------  
Masque felt fresh now. Like a different person, which was weird when she could literally be anyone she wanted.  
It was just different when she had her power taken away from her. Forcibly ripped from her metaphorical clutches.  
She just wanted to run out a window and miraculously disappear, but that wasn’t going to be happening anytime soon. There wasn't even a window for her to potentially crash through.  
She jumped slightly when she heard a knock on the door. Moving as far away from the wall as possible she braced herself for a fight. More like she was preparing herself to attack the guy who had come back to get her.  
“Come in,” she said slowly. She had no weapons and her powers weren't working. She needed to hit and run.  
The lock clicked and the handle turned revealing the same guy as before. “Want to get food?” he asked, making her forget all thoughts of attack. Judging by his size, he would just punch her once and knock her out. Might as well get food in her system first.  
“Come with me,” he said. He seemed to understand the hunger in her eyes as soon as he mentioned food and her willingness to comply to get what she needed. She could imagine her kaleidoscope like eyes were practically begging for food. She hadn't had any real food in forever.  
“What’s your name?” he asked her. “Mine is Steve. Steve Rogers.”  
Masque felt sick to her stomach. She was dealing with Captain America. The poster child for superheroes everywhere. And the leader of the Avengers. Now she had to rethink her plans. She couldn't just hit and run.  
“I’m Madeleine. Madeleine Dupont,” Masque lied, but it was so convincing no one would believe she was a liar unless they knew the truth.  
“Nice to meet you Madeleine. I think you’ll like it here,” Steve said with a grin as he walked her down the hall. He hadn’t bothered to restrain her however. All that she had was the collar, but it was enough to keep her weak.  
Her name was Helene Aretta Chevalier-Onwuatuegwu not Madeleine Dupont.  
She was an infamous mercenary trained in many forms of martial arts and weaponry.  
She was alone.  
And she didn’t plan on staying here for long.


	2. Starlight and Chocolate Pudding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helene "Masque" reconnects with a friend from her past. But now that they are on opposite sides, what will happen to the lies Helene has already started to tell?

Helene was slowly lead from the bathroom to the tiny little cafeteria like lounge area that had the aforementioned promised food. Her hair was still dripping slightly. It was cut to about her mid back and hadn't dried all the way yet, leaving small drops of water behind her in a trail. She felt exposed without a disguise and without her abilities in general. It was as if she had gone out in public, naked.  
She could smell the aromas of cafeteria food, which to her were the best smells she had actually smelled in months even though to most they weren't all that pleasant. Slightly soggy bread and leftover meatloaf seemed a lot better than sticky gruel, and certainly smelled better than the stench of her own blood that had dried in her cell.  
Captain America lead her to a nearby table and even pulled the chair out for her. “Sit down,” he said with a smile. She obliged slowly and hesitantly, unsure of how genuine the gesture was. The chair was a simple grey plastic one that you could probably find in a high school. For such a big operation like SHIELD, she expected a little higher quality furniture. But then again, she shouldn't get her hopes up too high only to have them smashed repeatedly.  
“Thank you,” she said simply, unwilling to show any sort of emotion towards him. She scanned the cafeteria of what she could only assume were SHIELD headquarters.  
She looked around the room to start. Similar to the interrogation room, the walls were plated with metal and looked extremely stable and it would be very difficult to try and break down the walls. But unlike the interrogation room, there were no fluorescent lights or shiny metal furniture. It almost looked friendly with an undercurrent of amiable chatter going on between coworkers. But she knew better than to trust anyone here.  
She sat on the chair with her legs crossed before fidgeting slightly. She brought her right knee up to her chest and rested her chin on her knee. She knew that if she curled herself up, people assumed she was weaker and wouldn’t bother wasting their time trying to take her out. Besides, she was more comfortable sitting that way.  
There was a large stretch of the wall that was made of what looked like glass. It was probably bulletproof to some extent. It was nearly translucent and it would have just looked like a rectangular hole in the wall if not for the slight glare and reflection that was apparent on it from the lights and the passing people. She wouldn’t be surprised if everything in this entire base was made of bulletproof material.  
It probably was. And that would make it harder to break out of here. Assuming she could even make her way down a hall without getting lost, not to mention all the SHIELD forces here, ready to stop her in a heartbeat. She'd be dead before she reached the stairs.  
She counted three doors, one on each side of the cafeteria with one wall consisting of food and drinks for everyone. Every door required a key card to get in, but not to get out. That was something she needed to remember.  
Even though there was a window, it only showed the hallway outside not the actual exterior of the base. She hadn’t seen the sunlight in a long time and she greatly missed the feeling of the sun on her face and the wind whipping around her. But she doubted she would be outdoors any time soon. She had survived this long, she could wait a little more.  
She also took in everyone around her, mostly just agents and other employees of the organization. No one special or worth extra attention or notice. All together she counted about 17 other people with her. She would be able to fight her way out, but it would be hard to fight everyone all at once just because of sheer numbers.  
Shaking her from her tactical thoughts was the soft thump of a bright red plastic tray in front of her. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I got a lot of different foods and thought you could just choose what you want to eat. I got some pizza, a ham sandwich, some fries, a bowl of chicken noodle soup, an apple, and a bottle of water,” he said, pointing to everything in turn as if she couldn’t identify the food on her own.  
“Thanks,” Helene said simply, not embellishing anything in her speech. She was hungry for real food and far too hungry to spend more than a second giving the Captain any thanks at all.  
She reminded herself she had to eat slow, or she would suffer from some sort of indigestion later today. She grabbed the small bowl of chicken noodle soup and began to eat slowly. The broth would probably be good for her and nothing was too strong for her stomach to handle. She quickly finished off the soup and reached for the pizza. It didn’t take her long to eat at least a little of everything.  
“You sure had quite the appetite,” Captain America joked as she took another swig of her water.  
“Well, I haven’t had real food in months, so yeah, I guess you could say I had quite the appetite,” Helene said with a frown, her voice dripping with sarcasm.  
“Sorry Madeleine. I didn’t mean to offend you,” Captain America responded, putting his hands up as if surrendering.  
It took her a moment to remember that she had lied and said her name was Madeleine, not Helene. It still felt odd to her, though she had used that name before. “It’s fine,” she muttered, turning back to her food, not paying him any more attention, though it was clear he was trying and obviously out of his comfort zone.  
Her gaze slipped back to the window and she frowned slightly. She thought she recognized the woman just now walking past and coming into view. She could have sworn she knew who that woman was, her face vaguely familiar. Like that cousin you only see once a year and then see outside of a family gathering and it's just weird.  
At the same time, the woman’s face turned to the cafeteria as if pondering if she should grab some food. She also looked rather confused as she spotted Helene, then her face lit up in recognition.  
The woman rushed to the door, swiped her key card and rushed over to where Helene was sitting with Captain America. “When did you get here?” she exclaimed, speaking both to her and the superhero. She had taken out her earbuds that were connected to her phone and blasting music. Helene could vaguely hear the song "Ramble On" by Led Zeppelin. Even that was familiar.  
“I got here a half hour ago,” Helene responded, pointing to the ground with a shrug as she couldn’t help but smile as she struggled to remember the woman. "Though I suppose you want me to tell you how long I've been here here. A few months," she said, her sarcastic nature showing.  
“Six months to be exact,” Captain added as he looked between the two of them, as if bewildered by the fact that they may know each other. It was almost mind boggling.  
“Then why didn’t I know?” the woman asked, crossing her arms with obvious annoyance, though not towards Helene, but towards Captain America himself.  
“Because it wasn’t in your clearance level,” Captain America said, beginning to squirm slightly as if the tiny woman in front of him was the scariest thing ever.  
The woman’s happy and light hearted expression quickly darkened, frowning at the Star Spangled Avenger. That death glare instantly made Helene recognize the woman, the same glare she would give every person who annoyed the two of them.  
The woman was none other than Annaliese Johansson, Helene’s best friend all throughout elementary and high school. From the time they were born, to the moment they graduated. And then they fell off of opposite ends of the earth.  
Suddenly all the memories Helene had suppressed for years came flooding back. The late night phone calls, the sleepovers, the adventures through the woods, and the excitement that came with growing up, and going on a road trip to Canada with nothing but a backpack, a minivan, and two metal chickens. She hadn’t seen Annaliese in almost six years and she hadn’t realized how much she missed her best friend. Those six isolated years could never erase eighteen years of pure friendship no matter how hard Helene had tried to forget her.  
“Oh, it wasn’t my clearance level?” Annaliese asked in a dangerously low voice, her face indignant. Even the noble Captain America seemed a bit uncomfortable. It was a funny sight. A large man unnerved by a 5’1 woman with her wavy blonde hair back in a simple ponytail. It made Helene smile a bit. Annaliese could have that effect on people.  
“Um, Agent Johansson, if you have any concerns about your clearance level, I would take it up with some higher ups,” he said, trying to form an articulate answer, but failing utterly, much to the girl's amusement.  
“Oh, I intend to,” Annaliese said with an obvious determination behind her words as she winked at Helene. The sort of tone that Helene would remember anywhere. When Annaliese used that tone, she wouldn't give up on her task until it was accomplished.  
“Wait one minute, I have an idea,” she said in the same tone she used when they were kids and she got a brilliant, but often somewhat stupid and insane idea. But those were some of the best ones she got. She ran out of sight quickly, a few crashes and thuds could be hear before she returned a few moments later with two small cups of chocolate pudding.  
“I hope you still love pudding,” she grinned tossing Helene both a pudding cup and a white plastic spoon and took a seat at the table with them, not caring about asking for an invitation or not.  
“Of course I still love pudding. How could I not?” Helene said with a snort as she opened the cup and took a big bite of the artificially flavored snack. “Thanks Anna,” she said, all of her loneliness seeming a little farther away.  
“Glad to be of service,” Annaliese said, giving her a goofy salute, her blue eyes sparkling as if they had just shared an insane inside joke tied with chocolate pudding. Which they did have. Every time one of them ate chocolate pudding, they would just be reminded of how many times they switched out some annoying girl’s shampoo bottle with a bottle filled with pudding in the locker rooms after sports practices were over. Miraculously, they had only been caught a grand total of zero times. They were just that good as teenagers.  
“Wait, Agent Johansson, how do you know Madeleine?” Captain America asked, greatly confused.  
“Maybe if my clearance level were higher, you would have known,” Annaliese said, not missing a beat even when she heard a different name. She slid a glance over to Helene, but she trusted her enough to keep the secret for now. Whether her name was Helene or Madeleine, nothing would hinder the trust between herself and Annaliese.  
“Well, you can’t complain to me about that, I don’t have the authority to do that,” he said with a long sigh, regretting his curiosity and the question he had just asked.  
“Well if you must know, Maddy and I go back ages,” Annaliese said with a grin.  
“It’s true,” Helene added, suppressing a laugh that always seemed to be there with Annaliese around her.  
“Yup. Wait a minute. You’re Masque?” Annaliese said, clicking all of the pieces together. The collar, the armed guard by the name of Captain America, Helene's haggard and natural appearance.  
“In the flesh,” Helene answered with a weak smile as she looked her friend up and down. “What about you? What’s your alias?” she asked.  
She remembered her best friend also having some sort of powers like Helene did, but they manifested completely differently. So while Helene could morph her body and change her DNA to anything she could possibly imagine, Annaliese could harness the infinite power of light, more specifically the light of the night hours meaning starlight and moonlight, but the sun worked as well. Light didn’t seem all that dangerous, but it was. Helene had tried that power once on a dare by transforming into Annaliese, but almost ended up burning the town down. Because they were both different from everyone else, they could trust each other with their newfound powers and their bond had only strengthened form that. Another reason why Annaliese wouldn't spill any of Helene's secrets.  
Annaliese also knew what Helene truly looked like, which is how she was able to recognize her in one glance. Her oddly colored hair and skin weren’t easy to forget. It was something that couldn't be unseen.  
“Well, I’m Starlight,” Annaliese said, spreading her arms and making a silly pose.  
“Seriously?” Helene asked, shocked that the hero was her best friend. She had her own suspicions, but she never thought it was Annaliese's thing. And she also had suspicions that Annaliese had been dead. Then again, Annaliese was probably shocked about her being a mercenary. The world was a strange place.  
“Yup. In the flesh,” she said, echoing Helene’s previous statement.  
“It’s amazing to see you again,” Helene said, still stunned that she had crossed paths with her again.  
“You too. You were here for half a year and I didn’t know,” she said with a pointed look in the direction of an awkward looking captain.  
“Sorry,” he mumbled. It was clear he didn’t like to make people feel upset and it was almost as though he was taking Annaliese’s anger to heart.  
Helene herself found it rather amusing.  
“Don’t worry about it Cap. Just know I will be writing several very angry emails and letters to Fury. Maybe even a phone call,” Annaliese assured the man.  
“You are fully aware he doesn’t like it when you do that,” Captain America said. "You do it just to be annoying."  
“Well Steve, he’s always annoyed at me anyway, so I might as well do whatever I have to so I get my issues addressed. Besides, it's the best way to get his attention. He's far too concerned about the big picture to realize we all have needs too,” she said as if she were giving a motivational speech, using her hands to gesture and emphasize on certain words.  
“I know there’s no stopping you once you have your mind set, so I’m going to say I warned you,” he said, shaking his head slightly.  
Annaliese hadn’t changed one bit from the day they could speak to now. Still slightly headstrong and stubborn, but a great person.  
Unlike Helene who traded in lies and secrets and was now asking her best friend to deceive her entire organization for her. Heaven forbid anyone find out they were both lying and Helene could probably say goodbye to the only friend she's ever had.  
Unbeknownst to Helene, Annaliese, and even Steve, every single move of this was planned by someone else.  
There was a reason they reunited at this exact moment. It was all part of a plan far bigger than the both of them.  
But they had promised. Cradle to grave.


	3. Conquest and Punching Bags

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As SHIELD and Captain America struggle to gain Helene's trust, she is allowed a privilege that helps her improve her rusty skills.

Helene had no idea what to do anymore. She was stuck in a continuous clockwork cycle of doing nothing with super soldier babysitters.  
It was clear to her what they were trying to do to her. They wanted to earn her trust. There was no other logical reason for her to be allowed outside of a cell. She was still highly supervised of course, but still. They let her walk around.  
She didn't know who was in on it though. It was clear Annaliese wasn't in on it, if she was SHIELD would know a lot more about her. She didn't even know if SHIELD knew that she and Annaliese were best friends.  
But the clockwork cycle still wore her down slowly but surely.  
At first she was glad to be out of her cell for once and in a real room. But it turned out that the room was just a cell in disguise. But instead of it being an empty metal room, it was now an empty metal room with bolted down furniture that consisted of a table, a chair, and a bed. So not really empty, but it felt hollow.  
She still wore the collar that suppressed her powers which guaranteed her to remain nauseous and dizzy until she took it off, but that was nowhere in the foreseeable future. The constantly cold metal chilled her to the bone, but she got past it. She didn't have to wear a straitjacket anymore and when she first got apprehended she had to wear a muzzle because she would bite the people restraining her. She could still taste the blood in her mouth months later.  
She sat in her 'room', crossed legged on her bed. She fiddled with the thin quilt that covered her mattress. It was old for sure, but it was nicer than what she had before. It had designs that were sewn in with colored thread. It helped her pass the time, just looking at the patterns and running her fingers over the threads. It was mesmerizing even. The quilt was made up of many smaller squares with a flower in the middle of each in a different color with embroidery designs in the flowers and around the borders. It was a bit too bright and colorful for her taste, but she didn't mind. It was a good change from her plain grey surroundings in her cell. Now everything was still grey and bleak except for the quilt.  
It kept her anchored to reality.  
She would pace back and forth in the small room for hours until it felt like she was going insane. She kept telling herself that it was better than her cell before, but the more time she spent in this tiny bedroom, the more she hated it.  
She wasn't active or doing anything. She was still weak and her injuries weren't healing fast enough. She couldn't take it. One more second and she would scream.  
She swung her legs off the side of her bed and got up to stand in front of the door. It was locked and she wasn't allowed out unless Captain America came to come get her. And he only really came by for meals and to let her walk around for about an hour a day. It was like school all over again, except now she was alone.  
She looked at the door as if willing him to come get her. She had to get out of here. The very air felt like it was suffocating her. The heat wrapping around her until she couldn't move or think or breathe.  
The door swung open and nearly hit her in the face. She took a step back and blinked a couple times as she had to leap back and lean to avoid the heavy metal of the door.  
"Hello ma'am," Captain America said with a small yet polite smile towards her.  
"Ma'am?" Helene scoffed. "That just makes me sound old," she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes at him.  
"Sorry. I can call you Madeleine if you prefer that," he said.  
"Sure. That works," she said, the different name still foreign to her. She doubted she'd ever get used to it, but she was still able to use it convincingly.  
"Come on, I have a surprise for you," he said with a grin on his face, like he knew a secret and he wanted to tell her, but couldn't.  
"A surprise?" Helene asked suspiciously. "I've never been a fan of surprises, but I'll like this one if it means I can take this collar off," she said, running a finger along the metal around her neck. "It's really uncomfortable and it makes me nauseous," she said with a dry laugh.  
“Sorry, no can do, but I can let you come out of your room for a bit,” he told her.  
“You always let me out for a little bit every day,” she said. “You took me out of my old cell and put me in a slightly nicer cell. At least this one's a little warmer.”  
“You’ll see. I think you’ll really enjoy this surprise. It’ll let you be more active,” he promised her.  
“Thanks Captain America,” Helene said as she looked towards the now open door. She could run now, but he was blocking the way and would catch her before he could get there.  
“No problem Madeleine. And call me Steve. I don’t like to be called Captain America, it’s too formal for this setting,” he said with an easy smile. And there really was no reason he should be on edge. She was still weak, though significantly stronger because of her increased food intake, and she was about half his size. He would be able to knock her down with one blow.  
“Fine. Thanks Steve,” she said, with added emphasis on his name.  
“Follow me,” he said as he turned and walked out, looking back to make sure she was following him. She quickly fell into step with him as they walked the halls. She took care to slowly memorize the hall layouts and the turns they took as well as anything that could be possibly used to her advantage.  
“Following you,” Helene mumbled sarcastically as she walked beside him. They garnered a few weird looks from other staff members and agents, but no one bothered them. She assumed the weird looks were either from her appearance or the fact that she was out of her room during an non designated time. Probably a mix of both.  
It was common knowledge at the base that she was here. The infamous mercenary Masque had been apprehended months ago. Now people came to her room and ogled at her as if she were some exotic animal at a zoo.  
“Right through here,” he said, ignoring all of her sarcasm. She found it infuriating how he just went along and ignored every bit of insult and sarcasm she threw at him. Yesterday she called his costume an oversized American flag. He simply shrugged and kept walking saying that she was probably right.  
He opened up another big metal door, which slid open with one swipe of his key card.  
He walked into the room and instantly moved over to the side wall. By the sound of his footsteps in the room and the echo it caused, she could easily tell it was a large room and had a few smaller objects in it. She could tell the ceilings were high and the room was more of a square than a rectangle. She filed all of this away for a later time in case she ever needed to make a getaway in the dark.  
He flipped a light switch. The entire room was illuminated with bright lights causing Helene to blink a couple times and squint slightly to let her eyes adjust to the light. She instantly took in all of her surroundings, she may have been tired, but she wasn’t too tired to observe everything around her.  
She was in a gym, a large training gym. Like everything else in this base, the walls and ceilings and floors were silver and grey metal. There were weapons on the side of the room in racks ranging from firearms to swords to brass knuckles. There were punching bags and sparring rings and shooting ranges and a few mats scattered around the room. There was even a first aid station and water cooler.  
“They’re very thorough,” she mumbled under her breath as she walked in a few steps, her own footfalls echoing in the large facility. There seemed to be almost every sort of top of the line training equipment here.  
“Thorough? Yeah they are,” Steve said with a small smile as he gestured around the room. “And I got permission to let you use this facility,” he said.  
“Can I take my collar off and train?” Helene asked hopefully, but she wasn’t optimistic about it.  
“Sorry Madeleine, no can do,” Steve said. He looked genuinely sorry about his answer, like he wanted to help her, but couldn’t. It softened her slightly and what would normally be anger faded away to slight irritation.  
“But I can train,” she said slowly, afraid that if she didn’t confirm it, it would slip through her fingers and the privilege would be gone.  
“Yes you can,” he said, now smiling again, his hands in his pockets as he watched her take in the entire room. “Would you like to start?” he asked.  
“You’re serious?”  
“As serious as I’ll ever be,” he said, pointing to the rack of weapons.  
“Don’t mind if I do,” Helene said under her breath as she walked over to the large array of weapons. She was honestly surprised they would even allow her in the same room as a firearm. She grabbed a simple pistol from the shelves and weighed it in her hand, it was fully loaded with a complete round in it. She could fire off a few bullets before having to reload. She tossed the pistol up in the air and caught it by the handle, flipping the safety off.  
She held the pistol with ease, like she had been doing it for ages, which she had been.  
She quickly shifted her weight ever so slightly as she whirled towards the nearest target. She aimed and quickly pulled the trigger, her hands flying up slightly after the recoil. She allowed for a small smile to spread over her face as she saw the hole the bullet left in the small round targets at the end of the room. All the targets were shaped like people with actual circles printed on them in the shape of targets. Her first shot hit right in the center of the target on the head and a second one quickly joined it. And another and another, until she was out of bullets.  
She tossed the pistol to the side and grabbed a rifle. She aimed at a target that was even farther and continued to unload an entire cartridge rather quickly. Each bullet hitting the center. The loud bangs were music to her ears and the resulted ringing was very welcome. She was too happy to care about her impending hearing loss. There was a reason she wore special earplugs when she was going into a fight with guns.  
She put the rifle back down and tossed her head back, laughing loudly. It sounded like she was a kid in a candy shop, overjoyed with the thought of getting sugar. Except now she was training again, all of her exhaustion forgotten.  
“Happy?” Steve asked, breaking the silence between them that started as soon as she grabbed the pistol. He had just stood there and watched her as she shot gleefully.  
“Ecstatic,” she replied. “Now what other toys do you have here?” she asked as she looked over the weapons again. She didn’t see any that struck her fancy. She was very well trained when it came to using swords or knives or any sort of long range weapons, but they weren’t fun.  
Then just the person she wanted to see came in. Annaliese strutted into the room in plain workout clothes. Just leggings and a tank top with sneakers.  
“Well I thought I heard loud bangs in here. You showed him how well you handle firearms didn’t you?” she asked with a laugh as she tossed her blonde ponytail over her shoulder and out of the way.  
“Of course I did. I need to make sure he’s scared of me,” Helene said jokingly, laughing as well.  
“I’m pretty sure you don’t need to shoot a pistol to make him quiver in his boots,” Annaliese said, giving Steve a sly look. Steve averted his eyes when Annaliese looked at him.  
Helene simply laughed and shrugged. “I guess I can be rather intimidating,” she said in a light tone. Though she didn’t know what he was afraid of. Her powers were blocked and she was still weakened from the collar and her imprisonment.  
“Very,” Steve said, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked up at the ceiling as if he was wondering how he got stuck in this situation.  
Annaliese grabbed a box from her bag and opened it, pulling a couple Cheez Its from it and popping them in her mouth.  
"Where did you get that?" Steve asked, shaking his head at her.  
"I have my ways," Annaliese winked at him, continuing to eat.  
"I will never understand you," Steve said, not arguing with her, knowing that it would only end with broken bones and screaming.  
“There there, Capsicle. Let’s do something fun,” Annaliese said with an underlying tone of sarcasm, a smirk on her face. “Want to spar?” she asked, looking up at the man with a questioning look on her face.  
“Spar?” Steve asked, a slightly confused look on his face.  
“Yes spar. Are you scared?” Annaliese asked, her smirk growing.  
“No I’m not scared,” he insisted. “I can handle it,” he said.  
“In that case you can spar Madeleine.”  
“Why are you dragging me into this?” Helene asked, though she didn’t mind. It would be a good chance to analyze his fighting style.  
“Because we need to beat this dude and he thinks he can beat me. You’re a mercenary, maybe you’ll be more of a challenge for him,” Annaliese said with a roll of her eyes like it was obvious.  
“Now I never said that,” Steve said, shaking his head.  
“Yeah now you have to deal with me. It’s too late now,” Helene teased as she rolled her shoulders back.  
“Good to have you on board,” Annaliese said, giving Helene a big beaming smile. “So some ground rules are, no weapons and no hair pulling. Everything else is allowed,” she said, listing them off on her fingers.  
“No powers either,” Steve added.  
“Fine no powers,” Annaliese said, sticking her tongue out at the Captain. “Let’s hurry up and get started,” she said, eagerly bouncing on her toes.  
“It’s not like I have powers anyway,” Helene mumbled.  
“Alright, get into position then,” Steve said to the both of them. They all moved to one of the sparring mats in the middle of the room. He stood on one side and she stood on the other. Annaliese stood on the side to ‘officiate’. In reality she just wanted to see Helene beat up a super soldier.  
“Ready?” Helene asked the two of them. Steve gave a simple nod as he raised his fists, if somewhat reluctantly, in preparation and defense.  
Helene did it similarly, though her own stance was a lot easier and much more loose. Steve was more of the stiff and rigid side, but she preferred to be as fluid as possible when fighting. She needed to use all the advantage and strategy she could to beat him. He was just as experienced as her, if not more, but she was a much more unorthodox fighter.  
“And fight!” Annaliese exclaimed as if it were a Street Fighter video game.  
Helene simply shifted her weight back and forth. She was used to waiting for her opponent to make the first move.  
Finally after a few long seconds crept by she saw him tense slightly on the right. Before he could even swing his fist, she sidestepped and struck him sharply on his right side, causing him to double over slightly and drop his raised fist. It looked almost as though she was moving in a constant fast forward pace and he was in slow motion. What she lacked in strength, she made up for with speed.  
She landed a few more blows to his arm and shoulders, each blow landing solidly, causing him to be thrown of balance.  
He struck out at her, almost blindly, but it connected with her torso. Staggering backwards Helene let out a small laugh. On the streets, she was the one people avoided in street fights and alley scuffles. She had a reputation of not only being immensely powerful, but certifiably insane, her fighting style was unpredictable. She laughed in the face of fear. She welcomed danger with open arms.  
“Keep trying Cap. I can’t go down that easily,” she said, straightening up and diving down on the mat to avoid the punch that was flying at her now. His fist only connected with air where her face had been several heartbeats earlier.  
She took the opportunity of being on the ground to get him down with her so he didn’t have the upper hand for too long. She hooked her foot around his ankle and elbowed behind one of his knees to get it to buckle. The rest of his body soon followed suit as he came crashing down to the mats.  
She quickly scampered on top of him placing one foot firmly on his wrist and her forearm against his throat, causing him to have slight difficulty breathing.  
“One! Two! Three!” Annaliese exclaimed. “Madeleine wins!” she said, clapping her hands together in excitement.  
Helene relented and rolled onto her back so she was looking up at the ceiling, breathing heavy. When she began to fight, adrenaline had pumped through her, but now she had slowed down and was exhausted. Her stomach stung where he had punched her and even from that she knew that he wasn't going as hard as he could, but she was. She really needed to get back into shape.  
“I was going easy on you,” Steve said, though Helene could tell he was just joking.  
“Good. When I get this collar off and I can really get my strength back, then I’ll fight you again and we can see who wins,” she said.  
"Don't count on winning then," Steve teased lightly.  
“But until then I can say that I beat you.”


End file.
